


The Adventures of Abigail Ruth Watson: Volume One

by Mother_of_Dragons



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Danger, Deductions, F/M, M/M, Multi, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_of_Dragons/pseuds/Mother_of_Dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I understand this chapter my leave you a little confused but there are some notes at the bottom which I hope will clear things up.</p></blockquote>





	1. The Diamond in The Rough

Abigail sat in the quietest corner of the small café/bookshop, her back to the main entrance and hands steepled under her chin in anticipation as she waited; the steam from her styrofoam hot chocolate cup misting her ‘fashionable’ glasses. She watched it rise into the air, scrutinizing it as it wrapped its white tendrils around her finger tips before disappearing. She had turned the ripe age of fifteen about 42 hours 6 minutes and 28 seconds ago if the digital clock fastened to the plaster above the serving area was anything to go by – which, surprisingly, it was – and remembered clearly the unmasked surprise on everyone’s face when she’d answered that she wanted to meet her biological mother when asked what she wanted as a birthday present.

  
Just thinking about it made her mouth go dry.

  
After a few moments, her Dad, Sherlock Holmes himself, decided to pretend that he hadn’t heard her and walked out on the group, claiming he was going for a long walk. Her Pop’s – as she, Hamish and Will liked to call him – was much more… helpful. He’d taken a long shaky breath, trying to compose himself before he ushered the boys out of the room. As soon as they had gone – although Abigail was sure that they’d be listening on the other side of the door – he’d asked her, several times, if that was what she wanted and finally caved in; giving his daughter as much as he knew about the current whereabouts of a certain Ms. Irene Adler.

  
Abigail let herself relax slightly, being careful not to let her guard down too much. She looked around the small room for the 15th time that day, taking in the scent of the wood shavings and dried coffee beans, even going as far to listen to the jukebox – bought for a very cheap price online - that had been stuck on the same song ever since she could remember.

  
She sat up; taking advantage of the chair on wheels as she forcefully dragged herself through the café/bookshop, running her hands over the spines of the older books and recoiling in near disgust at the layers of dust that came off, she was barely surprised.

  
She just didn’t understand why she seemed to like this place so much, it was falling apart at best.

  
Although the books gave her a welcome distraction, they didn’t stop Abigail’s eyes from zeroing in on the woman who had just walked through the door in a dark green dress that accentuated her curves, black heels and a full sized fur coat the shade of honey. She watched as she pulled the shades from the bridge of her nose and rested them instead on her short, but perfect curls; in all honesty, she looked like someone who had just walked out of the 1950s, all prim and proper.

Though Abigail was sitting on a stool that made her look very short, their eyes met briefly and she knew this was the one; her mother. Of course she had done a background check, who would be stupid enough not to?, but Abigail prided herself on the fact that she had refrained from ever searching for an image of her, knowing that she would just… well, _know_ the time they met.

  
She distractedly pulled off her glasses, focusing on Irene in the same clear vision that had been present when she had them on. It wasn’t that she looked much like Irene Adler, or Sherlock for that matter, but you could tell by the way their eyes both shone that there was some kind of connection between the two. As Irene stepped forward, Abigail tried to put all the bad scenarios that she had dreamed up out of her head and focused on one thing in particular. What to call her. Even as she thought it the word seemed foreign in her head… "Mum". She dismissed it after a few seconds, too forward, and settled with Irene.

~

  
Irene scanned the street, checking the address sent to her by Kate once more before entering Angelo’s. It was common knowledge that Angelo had died of a stroke a few years back and had left his only son in charge, who in turn had transformed it – kind of – into 50% café and 50% bookstore. She ignored the sound of the bell ringing above her as she entered and pulled off her shades, she had less time than planned for this ‘meeting’, in an hour or two she’d need to be filling out some life insurance forms, just to be safe. She had been back in London for about 2 years and since then had resigned from her job as a dominatrix – although, it didn’t stop her from being one in the bedroom – to settle down. She still couldn’t believe that she had been allowed back into the country with seemingly no strings attached and no assassins on her back, she almost missed the thrill of it.

  
Her eyes latched onto those of the young girl seated behind a bookshelf and she watched lazily as she dragged herself back to a small table with a checkered table cloth. Irene took a step forwards, unsure if it was her, before swaggering back into her normal, confident stride. All she knew was that she was here to meet someone that had a connection to the man she frequently owed her life, Mr Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand this chapter my leave you a little confused but there are some notes at the bottom which I hope will clear things up.

Abigail couldn’t help but notice the increase of heart rate and clamminess of her hands as Irene sauntered painfully slowly towards her. Her breathing became slightly laboured and her longish hair – a dark chestnut colour – stuck to her face, she suddenly felt very, very, smothered.

Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes to try and contain her nerves. To her surprise, the backs of her eyelids seemed to erupt in various types of colourful fireworks and unravelling swatches of pastel ribbons. She marvelled in its beauty before opening her eyes. As a result of opening her eyes too quickly the fireworks and ribbons remained present for a few more seconds before they faded to nothing, what she experienced next whoever didn’t surprise her at all.

She felt the faint numbness clouding her brain as her senses got to work. Things like this had happened before but they had never been as intense and most of the time she’d managed to suppress them. The lights in the café flooded her brain, suddenly too bright and she watched in amazement as the music emitting from the jukebox flowed out in vibrant neon colours. The taste of anxiety charred her tongue, pomegranate. Her cool grey eyes glazed over and she felt the dam that usually surrounded her higher than average but limited brain burst and the deductions slip through the cracks, bouncing around the walls of her skull as she studied the other customers; their personalitys [like auras] seeming to glow around them in dusty colours.

She’d almost forgotten about the woman standing at the bar, staring at her.

Irene had stopped at the bar in surprise, the girl at the table seemed to be having some kind of fit, her head cradled closely to her chest. She ignored the bartender as he approached her, wanting her order, she seemed to be the only one who’d noticed the girl in the corner.

Before she knew what she was doing she rushed towards her, trying her best to calm Abigail down. It was a primal instinct, this girl could’ve been someone’s daughter. She was babbling incoherently when Irene reached her and slumped forward in her seat, Irene only just caught her in time.

She held her with one hand as she fished through her purse, pulling out her phone and dialling 999.

“999. Will you be needing the police, fire brigade, ambulance or any other emergency services?”

“Ambulance please. I think this girl just had a fit, and she fainted”

“Okay, remain calm. Where are you at the moment?”  
~~  
Irene sat, slumped, in the hard plastic chair by Abigail’s bed. At first, she’d been very reluctant, insisting that she’d barely knew the girl, but had given in after receiving the hard glare of one of the female paramedics that had assisted in getting them both to Vincent’s Hospital; as they had a much bigger emergency which they were needed for at hand. No sooner than they arrived at Vincent’s, Abigail was pulled onto a medical gurney and whisked into a private room. She’d slipped in and out of consciousness several times and, probably assuming that the she was someone else, had grabbed her hand out of the blue and gripped on for dear life.

She opened her eyes now, keeping her left hand enclosed in Irene’s as she used the right to grasp her head, it hurt like hell.

Irene’s phone buzzed and as she went to check it as the door burst open, she shivered at the cold air but didn’t look up to see who it was. “Finally, you’re here. She’s been out cold for about and hour and 10 minutes, I think she just woke up now” she said absently, locking her phone’s screen and standing to face what she thought would be a doctor or nurse.

Instead she was met with a very red in the face looking Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again,
> 
> Okay so I know what you're thinking (apart from what's gonna happen in the next chapter?) what's up with Abigail and where did she get all these 'abilities'? Well in this AU Abigail has a [real] condition called Synesthesia [where the production of a sense can stimulate another sense or (generally) unrelated part of the body] and tries to hide this from everyone else, I guess it sounds better coming from a professional but I'm hoping by that brief description you get my jist, synesthesiacs can experience all kinds of things that other can't for example tasting sounds or assigning colours to emotions and numbers. The list goes on and on, not many people research this subject, so after a bit of research I decided to give her a type of Synesthesia that comes and goes in stages and can be triggered by extreme stress or memories and stuff, since there isn't much research I'm not actually so sure if Synesthesia can be switched 'on' and 'off' so easily, if at all it can, but I decided because its and AU already I should mix it up a little, I apologise if I have offended anyone.
> 
> Sorry if I confused you with all this mumbo jumbo but I just thought you guys should know because it probably isn't going to be revealed to the other characters for a while.
> 
> Anyway, if this chapter seems shorter and not as good as the first one, I don't really know where I'm going with this story but I want to continue it anyway. Please leave comments, especially constructive criticism because I need to know how to improve my writing style and what aspect people like about it 'cause it changes very often, one chapter can be really great and the next chapter can be so bad that it leaves you wondering if I even wrote the first one.
> 
> Lastly, kudos would be appreciated and also in my minds eye Georgie Henly is a good representation of Abigail but you can imagine her however you want. Oh, and I also need to work on a summary for this story, any ideas in the comments would be absolutely terrific. Once again, sorry for the long note.
> 
> Love,  
> Ify.


End file.
